The Holiday (2 page)

Small wonder—she was
stunning. Of mixed heritage, her skin was the color of tea just the way he
liked it: heavy with cream. Her dark hair cascaded down past the shoulders her
silky dress bared. She wore the ridiculous shoes women tortured themselves
with, but in this case he supported her choice because they showcased her
fabulous legs.

He was a man, so the first things
he noticed were the physical attributes. But beyond her beauty, there was
intelligence and presence in her eyes.
That
really turned him on. Corny as it sounded, he felt as though she could see all
the way into his soul.

Alarming, quite frankly.

He walked straight to Mel and
wound his arm around her waist to ground himself. "We need to go to the
airport or we'll miss our flight," he said, because he needed to say
something but he had no idea what.

Mel arched her brow in that way
she had. "Colin, meet Leilani Wakida. Leilani, this is Colin Melbourne."

Leilani
.
What a perfect name for a perfectly exotic creature. As he took the hand she
offered, a shock of electricity zapped his fingers.

"Oh." Leilani's eyes
widened and she quickly retracted her hand, hiding it behind her back.
"I'm sorry. It must be static."

He nodded even though he knew it
was more than static. The universe was trying to get his attention here, and
for once in his life he was paying attention.

Coincidence that this woman
caught his attention now? Opportunities didn't present themselves until one was
ready, and he was ready for a woman in his life. Since he'd reprioritized his
life, he'd been thinking about a relationship.

"This is Leilani's
gallery," Mel said stridently.

He knew that tone. He was
supposed to take action here; he just had no idea in what way.
"Brilliant," he murmured, looking around. It looked like every other
gallery he'd ever been to, including Mel's.

He'd been around art all his
life. One of the prices of being from nobility was all the art the family had
acquired through the ages. Dreadful stuff, mostly—or so Mel assured him.
Frankly, he never noticed the lot. He himself had an impressive modern art
collection that rivaled some of the great ones across the world, but he owed
that to Mel.

He owed a lot to her, actually.
It'd been Mel who'd woken him up to the fact that he was following in the
footsteps of his father, and
his
father before that. All work, no play, dead at sixty.

He didn't care if he died at
sixty, but he wanted to at least live a little before his time was up. That
gave him twenty-five more years of living to the fullest. So he launched
Operation: Less Stuffy. The goal: a minimum of one new adventure each month.
Going to Maui with Mel had been April's.

Mel faced him, giving him The
Look. "What do you think about the gallery? Rather impressive, don't you
think?"

He couldn't tell good art from a
five-year-old's doodles, but he didn't want to insult the beautiful woman's
work, so he nodded. "Impressive."

Leilani's eyes narrowed the
tiniest bit. If he weren't so aware of her he probably would have missed it.
However, there was no mistaking the chill in her voice when she said, "I
like it."

Excellent—he'd offended
her. Trying to make up for it, he pointed to the nearest painting and said,
"That tree is quite lovely."

"That's a person." Then
she smiled. "Although knowing that artist and his views, it wouldn't
surprise me if he saw people as inanimately."

He blinked, dumbstruck by her
smile. If only he were like his cousin George, who was quick-witted and popular
with the ladies despite his peculiarities.

Mel heaved a sigh before facing
Leilani. "It's been an absolute pleasure meeting you. Do you have a card I
can take?"

"Of course. Do you come to
Maui often?"

"This is the first time, but
it's been illuminating." Mel cast him a glance as she took the business
card the goddess handed her. "How often do you make it to London,
Leilani?"

"Not nearly often
enough," she replied with a wry twist of her lips.

Lips he would have given a
bullock to kiss. One of his previous girlfriends had claimed he was a stingy
kisser. Truth of the matter was he loved to kiss—he just hadn't loved to
kiss that woman. She'd had an abiding love of onions that he couldn't work
around.

However, he firmly believed he
could spend a lifetime kissing Leilani, given the chance.

But they were leaving—he
glanced at his watch—in three hours. Maui was a bit far for a
long-distance relationship. No point in torturing himself further. "Mel,
we should head to the airport."

"Leilani, I'll be in
touch." Mel slipped her arm through his and led him outside.

"That sounded like a
threat," he said as he led her to their waiting car.

"A promise, and I had to make
up for your stumbling. Really, love." She shook her head as she gracefully
slid through the car door the driver held open. She claimed her grace came from
years of enforced dance lessons, but he knew it was intrinsic to her. Mel was
fabulous all around.

They'd gone out on all of one
date before she showed up at his apartment with a bottle of champagne in hand,
not to seduce him but to tell him they'd be nothing but the best of friends.
It'd been a relief, really. He loved Mel, but she was a bit much for him.

Now she faced him, her blue eyes
wide with disbelief. "Whatever were you thinking in there?"

He raked his hair off his
forehead. "I wasn't. That was the problem. All the blood flowed out of my
brain the moment I saw her."

"That's unlike you."

"It is." He usually
approached relationships with the same precision he approached business
transactions: he did his research, interviewed the woman, and then made an
offer that she hopefully couldn't refuse. With Leilani, he'd wanted to throw
caution to the wind and just kiss her.

"Interesting." Mel
tapped a manicured finger to her bowed lips.

"Why am I starting to feel
like you're putting together one of your infamous schemes?"

"Perhaps because I am,
love." She grinned impishly, patting his knee. "Don't worry yourself.
You'll approve."

"Does it involve
Leilani?" Even her name tasted delicious on his tongue.

"Of course it does."
Mel studied him. "I'm not mistaken in thinking you were taken with her, am
I?"

"Taken is such a mild
word."

She patted his knee again.
"Leave it to me, love. I'll work something out."

"If she wants it. She may
not find me attractive."

Mel's husky laugh filled the car.
"I think we can safely say she found you attractive. You two positively
flashed sparks."

That wasn't an exaggeration.

"She was definitely
disappointed to find out you were my boyfriend."

"What?" Frowning, he
faced her.

Mel nodded, a sly smile on her
face. "You were the one who put your arm around me, love, not the other
way around."

He groaned, thumping his
forehead.

"Don't worry." Mel
pulled out her ever-present phone. "This can only work to our
advantage."

He wasn't sure how that could be,
but if Mel said so then it was true. When Mel set her sights on something, it
was a done deal.

He shifted in his seat, thinking
about the fall of Leilani's hair and how it'd feel in his hands, and caressing
his body. "Perhaps you can get on that right away," he said mildly to
his best friend.

She didn't look up from her
phone. "Already on it, love."

One foot out of the door, more
than ready to end the long day, Leilani almost didn't answer the phone. Pausing
with the key in the lock, she looked over her shoulder at the desk as it rang
for a second time.

She should answer it. Hurrying,
she grabbed the receiver before it switched over to voicemail. "Wakida
Gallery, Leilani Wakida speaking."

"Leilani, this is Mel
King," a British voice purred over the line. "We met several days
ago."

"Of course." She set
her purse down and reached for a pen and pad. "How was your trip home?"

"Long. Fortunately the plane
was stocked with plenty of vodka. Poor Colin deserves a medal for putting up
with me."

At the mention of Colin, her
heart sped up. She'd never admit it to
anyone
,
but she'd had a fantasy or two about him in the days since he'd walked into her
gallery. Every time she thought about him striding through her entrance,
straight to her, pushing her against the wall, and kissing the breath out of
her.

She felt a tug at her center, a
thawing that was as unexpected as the flush of attraction. It was followed by
the usual guilt at daydreaming about another woman's man.

"I'm a wretched travel
companion," Mel continued.

"I find that hard to
believe."

"Trust me, love, I can be a
princess."

Leilani smiled.
That
she could believe. "I'm sure
Colin counts himself lucky to be your subject."

Mel laughed, that deep rich
cackle that made a person want to join in. "Colin rues the day he met me.
Of course, I keep reminding him that since we've been friends, his dating life
has improved."

"Friend? I thought that you
and Colin..." She let the thought drift off.

"Me and Colin? Good God,
no." Mel's shudder was audible over two oceans and whole continent.
"He's a dear boy, and he'll make some woman the perfect husband, but I'm
not that woman. But I didn't call to talk about Colin. I called to talk about
you."

Shaken, she put the revelation of
Colin's status aside to analyze later. "Are you interested in a piece of
art?"

"I'm interested in
you
. I'm not sure if I mentioned this,
but I have a gallery in London. King's Gallery, in Mayfair."

"I don't believe you told me."
She'd have remembered, because King's had a reputation known throughout the
dealer world. Her interest piqued, she perched on the stool next to the
counter.

"I show an eclectic
assortment of work. Basically, whatever I fancy. Right now I have a collection
of modern pieces, a show I'm calling 'Future Masterpieces.'"

"And how are you interested
in me?"

"My current show is stark.
As a contrast, I'd like my next installation to be warm, featuring work from
your local artists, but perhaps mixed in with works from my island as well. A
West-meets-East sort of thing. And I'd like you to help me coordinate it."

Leilani opened her mouth but
shock took her voice. She shook her head. "This is surprising," she
finally managed to say.

"I was quite taken with your
gallery. You've a good eye. You have an impeccable reputation in the West. I
think this show could be brilliant for both of us."

"Yes." Her mind was
already churning with the PR potential.

"I need you here until the
end of June. There's no negotiation on that front. I'll arrange your lodgings
and travel, of course, and make sure you have anything you need. Before you decide,
Google my gallery. I'd tell you it's the best in London, but you should discover
that for yourself," Mel said without a hint of bragging. "I'll give
you my phone number and you can call me with your answer tomorrow."

She laughed. "You waste no
time, do you?"

"Time is a commodity, love.
You're looking for a reason to escape Maui for a bit, isn't that right?"

"I haven't had a vacation in
a long time," she said carefully.

"This won't be a vacation,
per se, but I can guarantee you'll feel refreshed after your visit. Now here's
my cell." She rattled off a number. "Call anytime, love. I never
sleep."

Somehow, that didn't surprise
her. "Thank you, Mel."

"Thank me by coming to work
with me. I must run, love.
Ciao
."

Leilani stared at the phone,
feeling like a hit-and-run victim. Head spinning, she continued locking up the
gallery and headed to Samantha and Mark's house. They were expecting her for
dinner.

She drove the whole way on
autopilot. She walked around the back, to the kitchen door, knowing Sam would
be there in her makeshift studio, painting. She waved to catch her friend's attention
and let herself into the kitchen.

"Hey." Sam grinned as
she set her palette down. She rubbed her cheek, leaving a green stripe behind.
"Come in. Get comfy. Want a drink?"

"Yes, please."

"Mark got this awesome wine.
I think it's chilling." She cleaned her hands on a rag and headed to the
refrigerator. "You always look so fresh and lovely. It's good that I love
you, otherwise I may be forced to despise you."

Leilani smiled as she kicked her
shoes off with a sigh and sat on a chair. "You're lovely yourself."

"I'm covered in paint
splatters and I have the hair of a teenage softball player." She tugged
her ponytail tighter. "But Mark doesn't seem to mind."

"What don't I mind?"
Sam's husband said as he walked into the kitchen.

"My constantly disheveled
state."

Mark went up behind her and slid
his arms around her waist to nuzzle her neck. "I love your disheveled
state, especially when I'm the one who caused it."

Leilani looked away on a prickle
of jealousy. She missed affection.

Not that her relationship with
Aaron had sizzled the way Mark and Sam's did. He'd been affectionate, but not
like Mark was with Sam. If Leilani hadn't been there, Mark would have laid Sam
on the counter and had his way with her—she could see it in his eyes.

But she and Aaron had known each
other all their lives. Maybe she'd been misled to expect burning passion in
addition to friendship and love. She and Aaron had been more like a warm candle
than the fireworks that Sam and Mark were.

Leilani wanted fireworks. She
wanted someone to
want
her.